


Closer to the Sun

by Stilinskis (MollyHime)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, M/M, Pining, Promiscuity, Stiles/OC - Freeform, Unrequited Love, brief scira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyHime/pseuds/Stilinskis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you're in love with your best friend? What do you do when you're sure he doesn't love you back?<br/>In which Scott and Stiles are hopelessly in love with each other, and are convinced the other doesn't love them back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally done! It's hard to believe it. I have worked on this fic for months, on two separte continents, and it's been a lot of blood sweat and tears.  
> I definitely need too thank youalmostblindedme for making the art for this fic, and pentagrammed for betaing and yelling at me to keep writing!

_ _

 

_It’s all my fault._

It was not an uncommon thought for Stiles. He felt like it was the only sentence that summarized him as a person. There had always been a lot things blamed on him, most of them fairly. It was his fault Scott broke his arm falling out of the tree fort when they were seven. It was his own fault he got chicken pox when he refused to be separated from an infected Scott. He’d done a lot of things, few of them inconsequential.

And Scott, Scott was his fault. Everything that had happened since that night had been his fault. If he hadn’t dragged Scott into the woods that night, he never would have been bitten. Lydia would never have been attacked. The Nogitsune never would have possessed him, and Allison, Erica and Boyd would still be alive. All the people he had watched his body murder would be alive. Every person caught in the crossfires of this supernatural hell would be alive. His hands were soaked in the blood of innocents.

But even if it was his fault, and he often regretted it, he couldn’t imagine their lives being any different than they were now. Would Scott have grown into the same man? And he really was a man now, Stiles thought, watching him across the classroom talking with Kira and Malia about some group project. He had grown into himself in ways that were amazing to see, and Stiles wasn’t sure he’d change anything if it would take that away. Scott glanced over at Stiles, a small grin tossed his way and Stiles felt his chest clench.

What do you do when you realize you’re in love with your best friend?

Stiles was sure he’d probably subconsciously been in love with Scott for his entire life.

He’d loved others, sure. Lydia has been his first love, in the way a puppy loved its master. And he’d loved Malia passionately the way only teenagers can, but they had both realized they weren’t meant to be each other’s forever. As if sensing his mood she looked up from her conversation, brow furrowed curiously as she stared at him. He forced a grin onto his face and gave her a thumbs up. She didn’t seem to entirely buy it but she smiled back at him and let Kira suck her back into their work.

With Scott it was so different than it had been with Lydia and Malia. It’s a slow burning love that only grows as time passes. Stiles distinctly remembered the first time he looked at Scott and was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of love he felt. He was dragging himself out from the bandages of the Nogitsune, clawing himself back to humanity. The first face he had seen, the only face he needed to see. Scott was the only tether keeping him still and okay.

In the aftermath of the Nogitsune, healing hadn’t been easy for any of them. Stiles avoided everyone except Malia. She never knew Allison, he never took away her first love, her best friend, her new friend and ally, her pack mate. Lydia hadn’t spoken to him for weeks, he didn’t blame her. She didn’t intentionally avoid him, he just didn’t contact her and she didn’t try either. Kira tried to be friendly but he could always see the worry behind her eyes, he had hurt her when he hadn’t been himself. He could hear the crack her head made against the table as she fell.

And Scott, oh Scott. He tried the hardest to avoid Scott. He sat in the middle of his bed, pretending not to be there as Scott begged for him to open the door. Scott could hear his heartbeat, smell the sickly scent of guilt and grief that permeated the room. He would sit outside the door for hours each day, whispering to Stiles stories of their childhood, of their happier times. Stiles would sit on the other side of the door, tears flowing down his face. He couldn’t let himself see Scott. Every time he closed his eyes he saw himself stab Scott, felt himself enjoy the pain he was causing. He remembered clinging to Scott like a lifeline when they thought he was dying. Scott crying was the last solid memory he had before the Nogitsune had taken over.

Eventually he had opened the door and let Scott pull him into a hug so fierce he was certain his ribs would snap. Good, he had thought, let them, physical pain for all the horrors I feel inside. But Scott would never hurt him. He just held Stiles tight, let Stiles sob into his shirt as they slumped to a pile on the floor. It should have been uncomfortable but Stiles didn’t care. Scott’s touch was the only thing keeping him from shattering into fragments. “I love you Scott.” he admitted, fingers digging into the fabric of Scott’s shirt, trying to drag him impossibly closer.

“I love you too Stiles,” Scott brushed his cheek against the top of Stiles head, squeezing him tight. Stiles felt his heart snap. Of course Scott loved him. They had grown up together, they were best friends, brothers. Of course Scott loved him, just not in the way he wanted him too. He pushed his face into Scott’s shoulder and let himself cry once more. And that was the last time.

It had taken time, but he’d fixed his relationships. It sometimes amazed him how much he and Lydia had grown together. It didn’t seem like that long ago she had no idea who he was. He loved Kira’s endless optimism. Malia was his first in many things and they always made each other happy, balanced each other. Even Derek had stopped being such an ass and was almost pleasant to be around some days. And Scott, Scott was Scott. They were still inseparable, and Kira liked to joke that she hadn’t agreed to share her boyfriend with someone else. It stung but he laughed anyway.

He and Malia had melted apart some time later, while Scott and Kira seemed to fall ever more in love. It was the last straw for him.

\--

“You want me to take you clubbing?” Lydia raised an eyebrow at him before going back to slicking red polish on her nails. “Since when are you interested in clubbing?” she asked, recalling his, frankly, terrifying dancing at the Halloween rave.

Stiles shrugged, feigning indifference. “Just feel like going out and having a good time for once. It would be nice to just get drunk and not have to deal with anyone trying to kill us.”

Lydia was more perceptive than most, and aware that he was clearly not giving a full answer and she stared at him once more before letting it go. She’d get it out of him eventually. “So what are you planning on wearing?” she asked, inspecting her nails, and apparently finding them acceptable.

“This?” he asked, gesturing to the jeans and plaid shirt he was currently wearing.

Lydia frowned. “Absolutely not, come on we’re going shopping.” Stiles groaned but Lydia was already flouncing out the door. When Lydia wanted something, it wasn’t worth much to argue, so he followed glumly.

And he found himself hours later, sitting in Lydia’s desk chair as she practically sat on him to hold him still while she drew on him with eyeliner. “Really Lydia is this necessary?” he asked, escaping the chair the second she lets him. Lydia settled herself into the chair to admire her handiwork.

“See for yourself,” she said, nodding towards the mirror. And okay, wow, Stiles didn’t know his face could look like that. Or any of him for the matter. A tight dark purple shirt clung to his frame and even tighter black jeans clung to his legs. It wasn’t something he ever would have picked to wear, but he had to admit he looked good. Lydia hadn’t put nearly as much makeup on him as he’d worried. It was just enough to add a little sharpness to his features.

“Okay, you’re right. I bow to you eternally, etcetera, let’s get this show on the road.” He was nervous.

Lydia held up a finger. “Two rules, you don’t leave with anyone except me and you don’t throw up in my car. Deal?”

Stiles nodded. “Like anyone would want to go home with me anyway,” he laughed. Lydia muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘twink’ but she was already on the way to her car and Stiles had no choice but to follow along.

The Jungle was hot, and packed. It had been surprisingly easy to get in, and Lydia used one of her many magical products to scrub the “Under 21” stamps off their hands. She grabbed his hand tightly and pulled him through the crowd. Stiles wondered when her touch stopped giving him surprise boners.

He let her handle getting the alcohol. Everything had fancy names that mean nothing to him. It didn’t need to be so complicated, he would take some Jack Daniels’ and be happily drunk in no time. Whatever Lydia handed him several minutes later is pink and tasted like pixie sticks. “This is good!” he shouted over the music and Lydia hummed, sipping on her own. She finished hers quicker than him, and turned back to the bar while he finished his own off. She handed him a shot glass this time, also full of a pink liquid. She clinked her glass against his and they threw them back, both enjoying the watermelon flavored burn.

She shouted something to him but the music drowned her out. She pulls him closer, yelling into his ear. “Let’s go dance.” Stiles grinned and let her pull him into the crowd of moving bodies, all the way to the center. She wrapped an arm around his neck and he put a hand against the small of her back. He let her lead as they dance. There wasn’t much room to move, packed so tightly among other people, but it felt intoxicating.

Stiles hadn’t felt this free since he was 15 and just another high schooler trying to be popular and get laid. And if his 15 year old self could see him now, grinding with the girl of his dreams. It was amazing what 3 years could change. He let the atmosphere wash over him, pushing away all thoughts of anything but following the beat with his body. Lydia slipped away eventually with some guy who had caught her attention, but not before yelling to Stiles to call her when he wants to go home. He nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious on his own, but the bodies filled Lydia’s gap before long and he let himself go again.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dancing on his own when he felt an arm wrap around his waist. He opened his eyes in surprise. Peering behind him, his eyes connected with deep brown ones. The mystery guy quirked his head, an inquiry. Stiles answered by letting himself lean back into the guys’ broad chest, let the guy wrap his arm a little more possessively around him. He’d never danced with a guy like this, had only danced with a few girls like this, but he was becoming addicted to the pounding beat, and the body behind him. He felt the guy moving them through the crowd, and he followed. It wasn’t until they were closer to the wall that Stiles was turned around. You look like Scott if I squint. He didn’t really, but it was dark and there was a warm body pressed against him that he could pretend belonged to his best friend, so it didn’t really matter.

When he was kissed, Scott flew threw his mind, filling every thought in his head. He kissed back hungrily, a hand tangling in the guys’ hair, pulling him closer. It was rough, teeth pulling at lower lips, and it was sloppy and Stiles reveled in every second of it. He was pushed against the wall and they were grinding together as the guy bit Stiles’ neck, sucking kisses across it. Stiles should probably have cared that there would be hickies to deal with later but in the moment he just didn’t. Scott was kissing him and he didn’t care. A hand was groping his ass and he should have cared. He’d only slept with one person, he didn’t do one night stands. He didn’t let strangers grope him in public, but there he was.

That thought, along with a buzzing phone in his pocket, sobered him up and he pulled away, rushing away from the guy, ignoring the situation in his pants, and probably the other guys’ as well. He found a calmer spot and picked up the phone.

“Lyd?”  
“You ready to go yet?”  
“Yeah, meet you outside?”  
“Two minutes, see you there.”

Lydia found Stiles vomiting in the alley. When he was done, she pulled him upright and gave him a once over, wincing at his neck. “It’s alright we can cover it up. Are you okay?” she asked, and uh oh, she was making eye contact with her serious face.

Stiles just shrugged and nodded, playing it off with a grin. “Yeah it’s just too hot in there. I’m alright.” She didn’t believe him. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. He wanted to tell her about the guilt building inside. Tell her how he made out with a guy and pretended it was Scott, almost got off thinking of his best friend marking up his throat. But he didn’t, it was his secret to bear. “Now take me home and show me how to cover these up.”

Lydia obliged him this time.

\--  
‘  
Senior year ends a month later. In the rush of graduation preparations, final tests, and finalizing college plans, Stiles didn’t have much time to think about that night at the club. The only time he let himself think about it was late at night when he was the only one awake, moaning into his fist as he thought of Scott touching him like that. The guilt always set in right after. Some days he found it hard to look Scott in the eye. He could feel the concern radiating off his best friend and it made him feel even worse.

Scott took to spending even more time with Stiles. Stiles tried to shove him off, telling him to spend his time with Kira. Kira just started coming along with them. He gave up fighting. They thought he still felt guilty about the Nogitsune, and he did, but it wasn’t what was driving him away this time. Every time he saw them hold hands, or kiss, white hot jealously heated up inside him, threatening to explode. He loved Kira dearly, but he found comfort in the fact that she would be going to college nearly ten hours away from him and Scott.

The summer passed slow and sticky. Heat descended over Beacon Hills and nothing seemed to relieve it. They were all a little relieved at how boring the months are. After two years of supernatural attacks back to back, they were more than happy to just be teenagers for a while. It was July when Malia brought up the idea of going out together. “Come on, we haven’t been since Mexico, and I want to dance!” The others weren’t so convinced. Stiles picked at his fingernails and acted like he doesn’t care. “We can have fun without anyone dying this time?” She tried. Somehow it ended up working and the girls disappeared to Lydia’s house, leaving Scott and Stiles to get ready on their own.

“Are you alright?” Scott asked a while later. They were both sitting in Stiles’ room. Stiles was in his desk chair, feet propped on the desk and Scott was on the bed, arms stretched up behind his head. His shirt had lifted and Stiles could see a patch of dark hair on Scott’s stomach. He tried not to think too hard about it. Gave up trying not to look about half a minute later.

At the words, he lifted his eyes to Scott’s. “Yeah, why?” He really hoped the conversation would end here, but he knew Scott better than that.

“You don’t seem like yourself lately. Something’s bothering you.” Scott sat up, and the concern in his eyes made Stiles’ stomach squeeze. “You know you can talk to me Stiles. You can tell me anything.”

Stiles shrugged, tried to be casual. “I’m just worried. We’re going away to college soon. The pack’s never been that far apart for so long. What if something happens?” It wasn’t a lie, but a worry that kept him awake more nights than once. What if something happened again? What if something like me happens again? The lie was in omission. He told Scott one of the things bothering him, just not all of them.

“We’re all staying close to Beacon Hills, we can all be back within five hours. We’re going to be okay Stiles. We’re always alright, aren’t we?” Scott moved off the bed, and his hand squeezed Stiles’ shoulder. It was warm and Stiles leaned into the touch.

“Yeah, we’re alright.”

\--

The club they end up at was packed. It was called “The Club” and Stiles thought that whoever named it must have been the most unimaginative, boring person to ever exist. They were all a little tipsy by the time they got there, pregaming in the back of Lydia’s car before they went inside. Stiles may have been more than a little tipsy. Lydia had found the right strain of wolfsbane to mix with alcohol, allowing Kira, Scott and Malia to have a little fun as well. Scott didn’t drink nearly as much as the rest of them, always responsible. But Malia and Kira are quickly heading towards drunk, and they stumble into the club, one on each of Stiles’ arm, Scott and Lydia following, rolling their eyes without any malice.

They don’t bother with the bar, throwing themselves straight into the writing mass of bodies. Malia is pressed up against him, warm and laughing. Her head is thrown back and she’s clearly happy. Stiles smiles, holding her tight. He still remembers the way her body fits against his own. He’s pretty sure they make out at some point. His lips are sore, the way they always used to be when Malia was feeling feisty. He’s not dancing with her any more, he’s not sure when he stopped. She’s pressed up against Kira now, and if Kira and Scott weren’t together, he’d swear there was something there. But then again, maybe he’s not the only one in love with his best friend.

Scott and Lydia are nowhere to be seen, and Stiles is grateful because he’s chest to chest with a guy who clearly spends a lot of time at the gym. He lets his hands wander across all of the exposed muscle, and when the guy kisses him, he lets him. He doesn’t look like Scott. It’s okay. This is okay. His hands are tangled in the guys’ hair, tugging hard, kissing harder, and they’re practically dry humping in the middle of the floor. The friction is delicious and his eyes are closed and still all he can think of is Scott. The guy yells something in his ear and gestures towards the bathrooms, and Stiles nods, letting himself get pulled through the crowd. He shouldn’t, really really shouldn’t, but he’s desperate.

They barely make it into a stall before hands are unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them down and he hisses at the cold air on his dick, but just as quickly there’s a warm mouth wrapped around it. “Fuck,” he groans, head smacking back into the stall door with a bang. He braces himself on the wall with one hand, the other sliding through blonde hair as he fights the urge to hump forward and fuck this guys’ mouth. He already knows he’s not going to last long, too worked up from dancing. It’s been too long since anyone else has touched his dick and not too long after he comes, and he can hear himself babbling words, but he’s not even sure what they are.

The guy kisses him hard, and Stiles can taste his own come. It’s kind of hot. Both of his hands work at the other guys fly and when he gets his hands around the other’s dick he jacks him off. He doesn’t know how this guy likes it, so he does what usually gets him off the quickest, and it seems to work because the guy is fucking his hand, and biting at his earlobe, and Stiles dick is trying valiantly to get itself back up. A couple strokes later, he’s groaning hot and wet against Stiles ear and coming over his knuckles.

It’s a little awkward after they both clean up and tuck themselves back in their pants. The other guy pulls a pen out of his back pocket and writes his phone number on Stiles hand. “My name is actually David by the way.” He sounds amused.

“Huh?” Stiles asks, confused.

“You called me Scott,” the guy laughed. “You’re one of those guys that zone out and lose control over your mouth aren’t you?”

Stiles pales. “You have no idea.”

David just laughs again. “Call me.” He kisses Stiles briefly, and then he’s gone. As soon as he is, Stiles scrubs the number off his hand.

He waits several minutes, propped against the counter, staring at himself in the mirror. He feels a little disgusted with himself. Using other guys to get off so you can think about your best friend instead, there’s probably a special circle of hell for that Stilinski. He scrubs a hand through his hair and finally leaves. He feels guilty as he emerges, sure that everyone knows what he’s just done, but they don’t, and no one even spares him a glance. He looks out at the dance floor where he’s sure his friends are, but he has no desire to be in that crowd again. He finds a seat near the door and waits.

Scott finds him first. His face lights up like he’s been looking for Stiles and finally found him. But he gets a little closer and his nostrils flare, and he looks confused, even angry, and now both Scott and Stiles are confused. He can smell what I just did. The thought freezes Stiles heart. Scott looks unhappy as he approaches his best friend, but when he speaks, Stiles is sure he must have been imagining it, because Scott is his normal self. “We’re going? You ready?”

“Yeah absolutely, let’s get out of here.” They find the girls and soon they’re all bundled in the car. The girls curl against each other in the backseat and doze, Lydia snuggled between Kira and Malia. It’s adorable, and Stiles can’t resist snapping a couple pictures on his phone.

Scott is oddly tense and quiet on the way home. “Where’d you and Lydia disappear to?” Stiles asks. Scott looks tired and frustrated and Stiles just wants to fix whatever is wrong.

“Lydia could tell someone was close to death and we found a girl overdosed so we had to call an ambulance and wait for it to show up.” Scott shrugs like it’s no big deal, and Stiles wants to cry at how big the hearts of his friends are.

“You two are heroes to us all.” Scott doesn’t smile and Stiles frowns. Something is wrong between them and he doesn’t know what.

Scott drops him off first, and Stiles sends a glance to the backseat. The girls are still sleeping. “Are you alright Scott?”

“I’m fine.” Scott says, and he’s clearly lying. Every muscle in his body is tense, and his face is hard, expressionless.

Stiles doesn’t push, even if he wants to. He steps back and lets Scott drive away from him.

He’s never felt so alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of attempted sexual assault

A photo sits on the table in the entryway. Scott and Stiles have their arms around each other’s shoulders, frozen in time as they laugh, smiling at each other, barely noticing Melissa and her camera, documenting her boys finally moving out on their own. That had been a month ago, when they’d first moved into their college apartment. It’s barely more than a shoebox really, but it’s theirs. It’s got two bedrooms, a miniscule bathroom, and one large room that shares both the living room and the kitchen.

The first couple weeks had been great. The tension Scott had felt from Stiles all summer seemed to have melted away and they fell back into the comfortable routine that years of being together had created. Scott had missed the feeling of being close to Stiles. But it hadn’t lasted very long.

The first weekend Kira had come to visit, Stiles had all but disappeared. It had been a little nice at first, he hadn’t seen Kira in ages, and every time he was around the two of them he felt guilty as hell. He loved Kira, but he also loved Stiles. He wasn’t sure if it was in the same way, but it was close enough to make him feel like he was doing something wrong. But as the weekend wore on he began to feel guilty regardless. He didn’t know what had happened between Kira and Stiles but ever since the end of senior year there was obvious tension between them. Well, from Stiles at least. Kira just took it in stride like she did everything.

“Kira?” Scott asks, running fingers through her hair as they lay tangled in the sheets of his bed.  
“Hmm?” she mumbles, mostly asleep. She curls closer into his side and opens an eye to peer up at him. “What is it?” she asks, pressing a kiss against his bare chest.  
“Did you and Stiles get in a fight?”  
One of her eyebrows arches but Scott can tell she knows why he’s bringing it up. “No, we’ve never gotten in a fight.”  
“Then why does he act that way around you?”  
“I think he’s jealous,” Kira admits. “Of us,” she adds with a sigh before Scott can ask. She’s been waiting for this conversation for longer than she cares to admit.

Scott’s stomach turns in an unpleasant way. “You mean like Stiles has a crush on you? That’s why he’s been avoiding you. Avoiding me too,” Scott’s voice trails off as a pressure builds in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. Why is he so upset? It isn’t like he has a right, he has feelings for both Kira and Stiles. So why is he so bothered by Stiles having feelings for someone else?

“Hey,” Kira’s voice cuts through his cloud of emotions. She’s straddling his waist now, tapping the side of his face to get his attention. “Stiles doesn’t have feelings for me, calm down.”

“Then what do you mean he’s jealous of us?” Scott half growls, frustrated.

“I think that’s something you should talk to him about,” Kira tells him, before her features shift unexpectedly, growing sad. Scott reaches up to press at the frown lines between her eyebrows. She laughs softly. She presses her lips against his palm. “I know how you feel about Stiles,” she blurts, startling both of them.

Scott freezes, trapped like a deer in headlights. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean Scott. I see the way you look at him. I see the way you’ve always looked at him. But you looked at me that way too and I thought maybe one day it would just be me, but I know it’s always going to be him. I know that now.” Scott brushed the tears off her cheeks.

“Kira, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to do this to you, especially you.”

Kira takes a shaky breath. “I know Scott. I do. I understand. I’m not saying it’s okay, but I understand.” She traces a fingertip down the side of his face. “Just give me one last night to pretend, please,” she begs, leaning forward, pressing her lips to his. And for one night, Scott gives her his whole heart.

\--

Stiles is drunk. Really drunk. Like drunker than he should be, but this boy is cute, and he doesn’t even look like Scott. Okay, he doesn’t look that much like Scott. It’s a big enough difference that Stiles awards himself a mental gold star. Like a typical Saturday night, he’s pressed up against a wall in a dark corner of a shady club. He loves college, so many clubs, so many new distractions.

They’re most of the way to hand jobs on the dance floor when Not Scott tells him he wants to take him home, and then tells him everything he wants to do. Stiles shivers. He’s never gone quite this far, hand jobs and blow jobs in bathrooms, in corners, even in alleyways. But he’s never let anyone take him home, never let anyone take him all the way. He’s about to say no when he remembers why he’s here, thinks about what Scott must be doing to Kira right now and bile threatens to rise. If Scott can have a good time, so can he.

He passes out for a while in the can. They’re both shit faced, but Stiles is still sober enough to know that driving anywhere is a bad idea. The good part of a nap is he’s slightly more alert. The bad part, he really has no idea where he is. But it’s not like tonight is a long list of good decisions so whatever, he’s going for it. He tosses the cab driver some money and then the two of them stumble out of the cab. He’s thankful Not Scott’s apartment is on the first floor because he’s really not sure he could handle stairs right now.

They’re barely through the door and they’re kissing again, this time with more intent, tugging at each other’s clothes. He lets himself be led through the apartment, kicking off his shoes as he goes. He resolves to find out what Not Scott’s name is before they get too much farther into this. It’s a lot quieter in this apartment than in a club, there’s no pounding bass to cover up the name he usually calls out.

He gets a little twitchy the more clothes start to come off. He can feel himself losing the cocky demeanor he puts up when he’s out. Tyler (turns out that’s his name) laughs at him. “First time?” he asks, nipping at Stiles earlobe, fingers rubbing against hip bones.

“Going this far? Yeah in a while,” Stiles sputters. Tyler is doing honestly sinful things to his neck with his mouth, and it’s fucking distracting. He thinks he might be melting.

“How about with a guy?” Tyler asks, and there’s a hand slipping into Stiles’ briefs, stroking him and it’s taking all of his brain power to remember what the question was.

“This far, first time, yeah,” he breathes out, rutting into the touch. But it’s just teasing, not enough to get any real satisfaction. The hand disappears and he honest to god whines, but he’s being pushed towards the bed now. He lands on his hands and knees and when Tyler tugs at his briefs, he’s more than happy to help kick them off.

Hands are kneading his ass and a mouth is pressing sloppy kisses up his spine. “What’s his name?” Tyler breathes out, hot against Stiles ear.

“Huh?” Stiles mumbles, and it takes him a moment to comprehend. “Am I that obvious?” he pants out, feels a finger tracing down his crack, warm with lube.

Tyler chuckles. “Your type always is. But go ahead, picture him. I don’t mind.” He pulls Stiles across the bed, closer. “I like it.” His breath puffs across Stiles ass and then his tongue flicks against his hole and Stiles loses the last of his reservations.

\--  
When Stiles opens his eyes, the way too fucking bright clock on the table informs him that it’s 5:30 in the morning. Tyler, thankfully, seems to be passed out, snoring slightly. Stiles climbs carefully out of the bed, grimacing at the pain in his muscles. He still feels drunk, but not in the fun, let’s go dancing, way. It’s more like the, we need to have a serious conversation about your drinking habits after you throw up, kind of way. His entire body aches as he carefully traces his way back through the apartment, dressing himself as he finds his clothes. He lets himself out quietly.

The street is silent and dark at this time of the night, and he sighs. There’s no taxis around. He left trekking to the nearest bus stop. It’s not actually that far, but in his current condition it feels remarkably similar to running a marathon. When he finally makes it there he plops down on the bench and lets himself doze until the bus finally shows up. It’s almost empty, only two passengers besides himself. They both look like they’re headed to work. And he clearly looks like he’s walking the walk of shame. He plops down in the very back of the bus.

He always imagined his first time would be with Scott, not some random guy he met in a club. That’s not to say he didn’t enjoy it because he definitely did, and he doesn’t regret anything. He just can’t help but sigh at how differently his life is turning out from how he wanted it to.

When he finally reaches his apartment, he lets himself in quietly. He’s expecting to pass out for a couple hours, wake up and deal with Kira and Scott being all cute and coupley for a few hours before Kira has to leave to go back to her own college. He’s so focused on his need for coffee that he almost doesn’t notice Scott sitting in the living room, eating ice cream out of the carton, eyes glazed over as he stares at early morning cartoons on the TV.

“Scott?” he questions. He most definitely was not expecting this. “You alright buddy?”

Scott looks up at him, and no he is most definitely not alright. “Kira and I broke up.”

In that moment, Stiles realizes what a horrible person he is. He’s torn between jumping for joy, and feeling crushed for his best friend. He certainly doesn’t want Scott to be upset, but part of him feels like he suddenly has a chance. “Why?” he settles on a moment later.

Scott just shrugs. Kira had kissed him one last time and told him to tell Stiles about his feelings, but it wasn’t going to happen. Scott had had enough rejection for one night.

Stiles gives up on his search for coffee, and heads into the living room, plucking the empty ice cream carton out of Scott’s hand, and tossing it in the general direction of the kitchen.

“How do you feel?” Stiles asks, flopping onto the couch next to Scott.  
“Fat,” Scott answers, avoiding the actual question. “I thought ice cream was supposed to make break ups suck less.”  
“Urban legend, believe me. I went through like four of those when Malia and I broke up for good.” Stiles settles in, tucked against Scott’s body, and Scott relaxes finally, chuckles a little, and wraps an arm around Stiles. For a moment everything between them is okay again.

They doze off together, both imagining what they can’t have.

\--

When Scott wakes up, he’s warm and cozy. He’s curled up on the couch, Stiles tucked against his side. He lets himself watch Stiles sleep, just for a moment, tries not to think about it too much. Stiles’ face is scrunched up, and Scott realizes just how hung over he probably is. He strokes the side of Stiles’ face lightly lets the black roll through his veins. Stiles’ visibly relaxes and Scott smiles, and lets himself fall back asleep.

The next time he wakes up, Stiles heavy warmth is missing. He frowns and in a sleep induced fog sits up and pulls himself off the couch. Following the rattling of pans and the smell of cooking, he shuffles into the kitchen. Without thinking he leans into Stiles, nuzzling against his shoulder as he reaches around him for one of the coffee mugs on the counter. Stiles laughs and ruffles his hair. “Why didn’t you wake me?” Scott murmurs, still mostly asleep.

Stiles shrugs. “You looked tired, and you had a rough night, figured I’d let you sleep until I was done cooking lunch.” He’s dishing up the plates as he speaks. He hands one to Scott and takes his back into the living room. They wedge themselves together on the couch, and eat in a comfortable silence. It’s the most normal they’ve felt in ages. Scott wishes it was always like this.

He waits until they’re several games into a Call of Duty marathon before he says anything. “Stiles,” he starts, and then stops, unsure for a moment how to go on. He can feel Stiles eyes boring into him, even though he should be looking at the game. “Are you okay?” He decides on and stares pointedly at the game, not trusting himself to look.

There’s silence from the other side of the couch. “Of course I am buddy.” There’s something not quite right about the tone of his voice, but Scott knows better than to push him, especially today. Today it’s like he has his Stiles back, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. Even if he knows something is wrong, has been wrong. He’ll let himself be selfish for a while longer.

“Well, I hope you remember that you can come to me if you’re not. I’m still your best friend.” It comes out heavier than he intends it, and it hangs in the air between them for a long moment before Stiles laughs, throwing his arm around Scott’s shoulder, half hugs him, half suffocates him.

“Of course I know that Scotty.” And when he gives Scott a noogie, well it’s downhill from there. They end up rolling around on the floor, play fighting like they haven’t in years. It’s normal, and for a little while, they’re both okay.

\--

But things end up a mess again, they always do. Scott feels like things are falling apart, like he and Stiles are falling apart. Scott deals with his by letting his college friends try and hook him up. He goes on several dates and they’re all nice, lovely. He even takes one guy on a second date. But they’re not Stiles, not who he wants, and he’s not the type to lead people on. And it seems like every time he goes on a date, he comes back to a drunk Stiles. Or he comes back and Stiles is gone. And when he comes back he reeks of alcohol and other people.

And it worries Scott. He’s not sure the last time he saw Stiles sober, isn’t sure he’s eating. And he’s clearly not happy. Even when he’s in the apartment, he’s locked in his room, won’t come out even when Scott begs, and Scott feels like he’s going to explode. He can’t lose his best friend, not after all the shit they’ve been through together.

He thinks he has a way to help, and he runs it by the girls, but it’s so selfish, he can’t bring himself to try. Not for a while anyway.

\--

Another month passes by, and Scott is worried. Stiles hasn’t spoken to him in almost a week. He’s been gone every night, and Scott is completely certain he hasn’t been to class either. He wants to call the Sherriff, but he’s not sure Stiles would ever forgive him if he did. So, he keeps waiting. For what, he’s not entirely sure. He has that plan, but he still can’t bring himself to do it, even though Lydia and Malia keep pestering him. Kira politely asks him how things are going between him and Stiles, and he remembers why he fell in love with her. She always looks out for her friends, even if it’s at her own expense. Scott knows he hurt her, and knows that she sacrificed her own happiness so he would have a chance with Stiles. He won’t waste that.

He’s spent the last couple weeks trying to find a way to word what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to freak Stiles out, and he really doesn’t want to do anything that’ll make Stiles push him away for good. But when Stiles stumbles through the door at 3 in the morning, a bruise covering the side of his face, and a bit of dried blood in his hair, everything he had planned flew out the window. He rushed over to Stiles, who was more than a little shocked to see Scott still up.

“Jesus Stiles, what the fuck happened to your face?” Scott can’t hide the frantic note in his voice.  
“It’s nothing. Some jackass got mad when I didn’t wanna go any farther.” Stiles shrugs, and props himself against the wall, like standing up is too much effort, and Scott sees red.  
“Stiles what did he do?” and suddenly he’s got his hands all over Stiles, looking for injuries, trying to keep his claws from coming out, trying to stop himself from following the faint smell of someone else and beating the shit out of the person it belongs to.  
“Not that, so calm the hell down before you wolf out,” Stiles snaps, and he shoves Scott, sending the other stumbling. “And stop siphoning my pain. God, I’m not a fucking child, I don’t need you to kiss all my booboos Scott.”  
“Stiles,” Scott starts, but stops. He doesn’t know what to say anyway.  
“I’m going to bed.” Stiles pushes by, and when his door slams, Scott slides down to the floor, buries his face in his hands. He can’t deal with this anymore. He can feel Stiles slipping away from him, and it’s one of the worst things he’s ever felt.

Tomorrow he’s having an intervention.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for possible dubcon, context is in the end notes if you would like to check

It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Stiles finally comes out of his room. Scott’s sitting at the kitchen table, has been since ten. He’s been up since eight, full of restless energy. He used it up figuring out what to say to Stiles, and cleaning the apartment top to bottom, a nervous habit picked up from his mother. There’s cold coffee and colder pancakes sitting on the counter, his own long eaten and dishes washed. Stiles throws them both in the microwave, and stares at the counter, refusing to look at Scott. He can feel the tension in the air, can feel that something’s about to change. He isn’t sure if it’s for the better or not. 

He sits down across from Scott, shovels down the pancakes, and drains his entire mug of coffee. He gets up, washes his dishes, puts them in the rack, and finally sits back down, still not looking at Scott. And for his part, Scott has sat there silently, unmoving. The silence drags out for several more minutes before Stiles huffs loudly, shattering the silence between them. “Say it Scott. Whatever you have to say, just fucking say it.” He’s staring at the tabletop, and he’s got his arms wrapped tight around himself. He feels like he might vibrate out of his skin. 

Scott takes a deep breath. “I want you to stop going out,” he starts, but Stiles cuts him off.

“I’m not doing that Scott. You don’t understand.” Scott interrupts him right back.

“Let me finish talking Stiles. At least give me that much.” He waits a moment, and when Stiles remains silent, he continues. “I don’t know what you get out of going out and sleeping with people, and clearly you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m worried about you. It’s not safe Stiles. I’m always terrified you’re never going to come home, that someone is going to do something awful to you. And last night,” he sucks in a shaky breath. He hadn’t planned on getting emotional, but this is Stiles, the most important friend he has ever had. “And when you came home last night, I was so mad at whoever did that to you. Stiles I was ready to hurt them. I was so scared they did something awful to you. I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you.” 

He stares across the table, telepathically begging Stiles to look at him. But, Stiles is doing his best to shrink into his chair. The air smells vaguely of salt water, and Scott isn’t even sure which one of them it’s coming from. “So please stop going out Stiles. Just sleep with me instead.” The words are out, and now he can’t take them back.

Stiles eyes meet his for the first time and Scott feels like his heart is going to stop, because those eyes went from ‘shock’ straight to ‘anger’. “Are you fucking kidding me Scott?” Stiles snaps. “Is this some kind of joke to you?” Scott feels a lot like his heart is shattering. “Seriously, what the fuck?” Stiles is agitated, running his hands through his hair, Scott’s worried he’s going to pull it out. 

Scott feels the spirit drain out of him, and she slumps in his chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the thought of sleeping with me was that repulsive to you.” There’s a little venom in his tone, and normally he’d be ashamed. But, all of his questions have been answered. Clearly the way he feels towards Stiles is one sided. 

“I don’t need your pity fuck Scott,” Stiles seethes. They’ve never been this angry with each other, it feels like uncharted water, and Scott hates it.

“Is that what you think this is? Do you really think I’m trying to make some grand sacrifice by sleeping with you? I care about you Stiles. You are my best friend. I would rather know you were safe and with me, rather than having to worry someone’s killed you and dumped you in a fucking dumpster. This is for me as much as it’s for you.” He’s practically yelling, and he’s half out of his seat. There’s more truth in his words than he’d planned, but he doesn’t think Stiles noticed.

Stiles, for his part, has shrunk back into his seat. He’s a little nauseous, and his mind is going a thousand miles a minute. “Just give me a little time to think about it, okay? I’ll come find you.” Scott nods, and disappears from the kitchen. Stiles lets his head hit the table with a thump. He’s having trouble figuring out what exactly just happened. Scott offered to sleep with him, so he doesn’t have to sleep with strangers. He should be thrilled. Wanting to sleep with, be with Scott has been the root of a lot of his problems in the first place. But it’s not the real thing, and no matter what Scott says, it still feels like a pity fuck. He needs to decide if it’s better to have half of what he wants, or none of it at all.

Half an hour later, he’s standing in Scott’s doorway, tugging nervously on the hem of his shirt. Scott’s at his desk, writing a paper, and he looks up when Stiles clears his throat and leans against the door frame. Scott looks nervous. “I’ve decided, uh,” his voice sticks for a moment. “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

Scott nods like they’re talking about the weather. “When?”

Stiles shrugs, scuffs his toe against the floor. “Tomorrow night? After you get home from work?”

Scott gives him a smile. It’s small and maybe a little unsure, but it’s the closest they’ve been in ages.

\--

Scott gets back from work later than he planned. It’s almost 9 by the time he makes it through the door of their apartment, but it’s a Friday, so it doesn’t really matter. It’s quiet, but he can hear Stiles shifting in his room. Scott kicks off his shoes, and makes his way towards the bedroom. After stopping in his room for a moment, he knocks on Stiles door. But when Stiles opens the door, Scott can’t handle the emotions that flicker suddenly.

“Stiles are you drunk?”

“Yeah? And?” Stiles voices slurs just slightly. He moves away from the door and sits heavily on the bed. Scott follows him in, leans against the wall.

“I’m not doing this if you’re drunk Stiles. Why the hell are you drunk anyway?”

Stiles shrugs. “I said I wouldn’t go out, we’re doing the rest of this my way, otherwise I can just go.”

“Stiles don’t,” Scott sighs. “When was the last time you had sex sober?” he asks, sitting down on the bed next to Stiles, close but not quite touching.

“When did Malia and I break up?” and Stiles laughs like it’s funny, but it makes Scott sad, because he can tell Stiles isn’t lying. It hurts him that Stiles has to be drunk to want to have sex with him. He doesn’t want to do it like this, but it’s for Stiles. If he wants to be drunk, Scott will swallow his morals and deal with it.

“Come here.” It comes out gruffer than he intends but he’s pulling Stiles towards him, and he kisses him gently, giving him a chance to call this off. But he doesn’t. Suddenly Scott’s got a lapful of Stiles and he’s not quite sure where to put his hands but Stiles is kissing him like the world is going to end and nothing else really seems to matter anymore. Scott feels like he’s going to fall apart when Stiles tugs him back by his hair and attacks his neck. He groans when he feels Stiles bit into the base of his neck. 

Scott drags Stiles further onto the bed and rolls them so he’s got Stiles pinned to the bed. It takes all of his willpower to pull away from Stiles’ lips. Stiles is panting, eyes glazed over as he gazes up at Scott. “What?” he asks, trying to pull Scott back down.

“What do you want Stiles? What do you need from me?”

Stiles shifts underneath him and makes a pained noise as their crotches brush together. “Fuck me Scott. Please just fuck me.” He tugs on Scott’s hair and this time gets no resistance. The kiss is rough, teeth clacking and bit lips as they tug at each other’s clothes, both desperate to touch skin. 

Stiles is so soft and tender underneath him and Scott feels drunk with it. Stiles is naked underneath him and every breathy ‘you’ when Scott asks him what he wants sends a shiver down his spine. He never imagined just how amazing it would feel to suck hickies into his best friend’s skin, to swallow him down to the base of his dick and watch his face screw up.

But the most amazing part is when he’s finally buried deep in him. The way Stiles pulls him down, kisses him senseless as he fucks him. The image of Stiles, head thrown back, sobbing as he comes is seared into his brain for the rest of his life. 

And the way they lay when it’s over, Stiles limp and blissed out, half asleep flopped across Scott’s chest. Scott runs his hands through Stiles hair, presses a kiss to his forehead once he’s sure Stiles is asleep. He wishes they could spend every night like this.  
\--  
The next morning it’s as if nothing had happened. They eat breakfast in silence, though it’s at least companionable, rather than hostile or awkward. But that aside, nothing has changed. Scott feels like someone’s slowly sawing through his chest, there’s a dull ache where his heart should be. But he doesn’t know what to say. This isn’t an awkward morning after a one night stand. This is his best friend. He tries to tell himself that they just need time. It’s not like they’re the epitome of normal friendship. 

But that day turns into another, and it turns into weeks. They don’t fuck every night. Sometimes it’s rushed hand jobs, pressed into each other’s space, breathing each other’s air. Other nights they press each other against walls, get each other off with their mouths. These nights Scott can handle. It’s the nights when he’s deep inside Stiles, or he’s riding Stiles that he feels like he might fall apart. It’s so intimate, and everything he’s ever wanted. But it’s not. It doesn’t feel right. He has to stop himself from telling Stiles everything, every feeling he’s ever had for him. It’s not fair to force his feelings on him, it’s not what Stiles agreed to. But Scott’s not sure how much longer he can take it. 

Their situation comes to a head a few days later. Stiles ambushes Scott, presses him up against the wall. “No. I can’t.” The words are out of Scott’s mouth and he’s pushing Stiles away before he even realize what he’s doing. Stiles is frozen, two steps back from Scott, and the look on his face makes Scott want to take back everything he’s just said. But he can’t, and he doesn’t actually want to. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t sleep with you, and act like nothing ever happened anymore Stiles, I can’t.”

Stiles switches immediately from hurt to angry. “Then why the fuck did you agree to do it in the first place Scott? It was your idea!” His posture shifts and Scott doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so defensive.

“I agreed because I thought it would help you, but it’s not. You’re just as miserable. I can’t deal with us not talking anymore. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I wanted to save our friendship, and it’s not working. And I can’t do this anymore Stiles it hurts too much!” Scott snaps. He feels like crying, and he’s so close to just telling Stiles everything.

“What do you mean it hurts Scott?” Stiles asks, and he sounds calmer if anything.

Scott takes a deep breath. He can’t keep it in any longer. “I love you Stiles.” Just getting the words out feels like the weight’s been taken off his shoulders, and sunk into the pit of his stomach. “I have loved you for so long. That’s why Kira and I broke up. She said I should tell you but I was scared of ruining our friendship. And I know it was selfish but that’s why I offered to sleep with you. I didn’t think it would hurt so much.”

“Jesus Christ, Scott,” Stiles sounds like he’s crying and suddenly Scott’s got an armful of Stiles and they’re hugging, smashed up against the wall and Scott’s afraid to ever let go, afraid this is the end of everything.

It takes him a moment to pick out what Stiles is saying, muffled from where his face is pressed against Scott’s neck. “I love you Scott. I love you so much I’ve always loved you.” They’re clinging to each other for dear life and Scott doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but it’s better than he’s felt in ages.

There’s a lot they’re going to have to talk about, and a lot of things they’re going to have to fix. But, they’re Scott and Stiles. They’ve made it through everything bad that’s ever happened to them. Scott knows they can make it through the good in one piece too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles fully consents to have sex with Scott, then gets drunk, and continues to give consent. However I realize that this may be triggering to some people, so I've included the warning, though I don't personally consider it dubcon.


End file.
